


Kemi, November 15th, 1997

by ChristianHowe



Series: Revontulet [6]
Category: Sonata Arctica
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristianHowe/pseuds/ChristianHowe
Summary: First gig, first time with a girl, and who needs plot anyway.
Relationships: Jani Liimatainen/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Revontulet [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/267016
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Kemi, November 15th, 1997

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: In Finland, 14 February isn't celebrated as Valentine Day but Friendship Day. In that sense, I wish you all a Happy Friendship Day – hyvää ystävänpäivää kaikille!  
Now, if someone thinks she maybe recognises herself a little in parts of this ficlet, she might be right, because it is a gift for her.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine, not true. 
> 
> Unbetaed.

* * *

"See something you like?"

"Huh?" Jani looks up, pretending not to understand when the girl addresses him in Swedish. A second later, she repeats her question in Finnish, though, and he knows he's screwed.

Oh yes, indeed, he likes what he sees: blond hair framing a smiling face with blue eyes. And, although the thought is somewhat inappropriate, her rack is nothing to snot at either. Pena and Marko would call her hot, and Jani agrees that they'd be right; she's definitely hot. That is, however, not the reason he's been staring at her when he'd noticed her at the neighbouring table. In fact, he's only beginning to really register her looks now that she's standing right before him.

"I, uh..." Always awkward in social situations, Jani struggles for words before taking flight to, "I'm with the band." Now, that doesn't make things any better, but how can explain to her that he's been interested in the contents of her handbag rather than in her? That he likes what he sees, but that he'd like the bottle she's used to top up her drink even more? And, as he realises belatedly, wouldn't his reply that he was with the band be interpreted as a sort of demand for sex, suggesting that he's thinking of himself as a rock star who considers her a groupie?

Jani looks down. "Sorry," he mutters, "that came out wrong..." Or is he making things worse now by apologising for suggesting something she probably never read off his reply anyway? "Look," he begins again, gathering all courage he can muster to face her, "Today's our first... real gig... I guess I'm kinda... making an idiot out of myself..." he laughs self-consciously.

"Stage fright, huh?" She laughs, too, then turns serious. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make fun of you. My brother is in a band, too, and he has a bad case of it."

He hasn't noticed that he's held his breath, but now he releases it. Apparently, he's off the hook for not answering her straight away earlier. For once, there's a positive side aspect to his fear of performing in public. When Toni had announced that he'd got them their first real gig at the Takajärvi – Takitsu – local youth centre, Jani had immediately plummeted into a full-blown panic. They'd played at a friend's birthday party a couple of weeks ago, after which Jani had considered giving up music because even though there were only good friends present, he'd barely been able to play. It was only after Marko had dosed him up with a generous amount of salmari that his shaking hands had begun to cooperate. A gig before complete strangers was out of the question.

Of course, Tony had disagreed, had told him over and over again that he was a rad guitarist, that he needn't be afraid of fucking up, that they'd been rehearsing for months, even had their own songs. In one word, they were ready.

Toni was, ready. Jani, not so much. Not at all. But he couldn't leave his band mates alone less than a week before their first important gig either. There was only one thing he could do: suffer in silence and practice. Practice, practice, practice, until his fingertips bled.

After a couple of days – and nights – of running scales, Pirre figured out that something was going on and got the news about the gig out of him. She promised him that she'd attend, emphasising that she'd have come anyway if possible, but that it was for him that she swapped her shift – finding someone to work her Saturday night shift at the A&E so she could go on during the day instead meant she seriously owed that person. Jani was moved and relieved she'd be there, but he also was now under even more pressure to perform. On the other hand, knowing that Pirre would be there helped ease his frayed nerves. She was his anchor and would keep him safe, so he might actually be able to play.

Of course, it hasn't gone as planned. That Pirre would get knocked around by a drunk at work and hit her head so that her superior decided to keep her at the hospital overnight to watch for concussion put a spanner in the works, especially as she'd offered to act as backup driver should Marko's car break down. Which it, predictably, did.

By the time Tommi's mum agreed to give them and their gear a lift, Jani's nerves were shot. So far, actually, that he forgot to pack the bag with the booze, the only hope he had at that point to get on stage. He'd somehow made it through soundcheck, but after that he couldn't bear staying in the same room with his band mates and his guitars, and so he'd fled to the so-called bar of the Takitsu – where, of course, they don't sell alcoholic beverages.

He was doomed. _Is_ doomed. Unless...

"I... um..." He casts his eyes down again, somewhat involuntarily glancing at her glass, then her bag.

"Oh. I see."

The girl laughs again. If Jani wasn't so nervous, maybe he'd like to get to know her.

"I'll be happy to share," she announces, and he looks up again to see her smile at him. "You know what," she cocks her head, "if you play a song for me tonight I'll even give you the entire bottle." She directs a conspiratory wink at him and he's about to open his mouth and accept the generous offer when a voice rings out from behind them.

"Helena, you coming?"

She turns her head and calls back, "Coming!" Still smiling at Jani, she says, "Sorry, gotta go," picks up her glass and leaves... No, wait, she's picked up _his_ glass and left hers behind, which means...

Maybe the night won't be so bad, after all.

By the time they hit the stage, Jani isn't as drunk as he'd like to be, but the spiked drink has taken the edge off and he thinks he can make it through the gig. Cringing when Toni announces their band name as Tricky Beans – something to do with Toni's nipples that Jani should probably be glad not to remember in detail – Jani's fingers find their position on the fretboard without effort. Seconds later, they're in song and nothing else, stage fright, girls, counts anymore.

Everything goes well. The audience clearly like what they're hearing. Jani's fingers don't slip even once and he's feeling great. That is, until he catches his name when Toni introduces their second last song. Like most songs tonight, it's one of their own, a ballad, which they chose to play before the – hopefully – frenzied final, a new song called 'Full Moon' that Jani is particularly looking forward to playing as he's very proud of the guitar solo he came up with. Now, however, he's sure that his hands will remain as frozen as the rest of his body when he hears Toni's words.

"Our next song is for someone special." Toni looks around, scanning the audience. "Her name is Helena. Our guitarist, Jani, has asked me to dedicate it to her because he's, well, and that's the name of the song, _Shy."_

If looks could kill, Toni would drop dead on the stage, Jani thinks. Why on earth hasn't he kept quiet about the girl? Marko's ribbing was to be expected, but that Toni would comment on it in public... He doesn't have time to think further because he has to concentrate on picking, but inside he's furious.

Somehow, he makes it through the song without fucking up. A moment later, they plunge into Full Moon and he finds that pouring all his anger and fear into his playing helps deal with it. It always does, but tonight he thinks he's rarely lost himself in his music with this much passion, probably because he's never suffered from this degree of stage fright before.

When the song ends – to his surprise, as they liked their music before – the audience is still and staring at them... Actually, they're staring at _him,_ as do his band mates. After a second, cheers arise and shouts for an encore, which they're happy to deliver. Following that, another encore is demanded, and Toni decides on the spot to repeat Full Moon.

Jani continues playing in a somewhat dreamlike state, and when the song is over, Toni pulls him off the stage, not a second to early; he must have noticed that their lead guitarist is about to collapse.

"Leave the load-out to us," Toni says, "and go find your girl."

It's the last thing Jani wants to do. Facing strangers, and a female at that, in his now drained and fragile state? No way – besides, she isn't 'his girl!' He'd be much better off hiding out in the safety of looking after his gear, but the expression on Toni's face makes it clear that that is not an option tonight.

Now that the adrenalin is fading from his system, Jani's hands are shaking. Whatever will happen next, he needs a smoke first.

Finding a spot to withdraw to is surprisingly easy. The weather isn't exactly inviting people to leave the safety of the Takitsu's warm rooms. The place Jani finds to light up doesn't keep him sheltered from the sleet, but it keeps him safe from people, which to him at this point is much more important than getting pelted with slush.

"Got one for me, too?"

It's a bit of a déjà-vu, only this time Jani knows who's addressing him, although he's as startled as earlier.

"I'll give you this in exchange." The girl – Helena – holds out a half-litre bottle to him. He's still busy digging for his pack of cigarettes that got stuck in his jacket pocket, so he cannot take it, but he reads what the bottle contains. Kossu, the 60% variant, as he'd already guessed from the strength of the drink she'd left with him before the gig.

"Then again, it's yours anyway," she continues, "and I'd have given it to you without making you mention me on stage, but my cousin – she's the one who called me away – works here as a volunteer at the centre and wasn't supposed to see that I'm, well, carrying." She winks.

Jani has, meanwhile, fished out his pack and offers it to her. Lighting up in the wind requires his hand to shield the flame, and he shrinks back when their hands touch, but she doesn't seem bothered. Quite the opposite, apparently, as her smile grows warmer. "What your singer said. You really are shy. And I guess frayed nerves don't help with that. But if you're worried about your guitar performance, don't be. I adore my brother and I consider him a decent player, but you... Seriously, that was something else entirely."

She talks a lot, but Jani can tell it's sincere and for once, he doesn't mind listening. Especially the part about his guitar skills sounds honest and... qualified? He's heard girls at school gushing about him being a good player, but they knew nothing about music. This girl might have an understanding. Maybe he can get more specifics about what she thinks of his technique. It would be worth hearing what an outsider has to say.

He puts his cigarettes away and takes a large swig from the bottle she's now offering again, relishing the burning feeling in his throat and œsophagus. She joins him and gasps, obviously not used to drinking the stuff in its pure form.

"So," he begins, "your brother. Is he in a band I may know?"

"I certainly hope not," she laughs. "We're not that... Now, here's where I have to make a confession. I'm also in the band. Bassist. You know, dumb as rock."

She ducks her head but it looks playful and Jani doesn't think she means it. It's a bit of a sensitive topic for him, though, as there's currently an internal discussion in Tricky Beans whether to replace Pena, who seems to be more interested in alcohol and girls than practicing. Then again, look who's talking, who's the one standing here drinking and – would this count as flirting? – with a girl!

"Anyway," Helena picks up again, "we're from Jakobstad," she uses the Swedish name for the town, "and my guess is that you won't find many people who've heard of us even there. We're the Flying Cloudberries – don't laugh. Or no, laugh, that's what it's all about, my brother and I together with a friend, who's nowadays our drummer, one summer at our kesämökki when we were little, pelting each other with berries, laughing our arses off."

She looks up at the sky. "Speaking of clouds – well, kind of – and being pelted, what do you think, should we try to get out of this rain?"

It's a valid point, but where would they go? If they return inside, Jani has a feeling that it will put an end to their conversation, which, to his surprise, he's beginning to enjoy a lot. He might have to thank Toni later for this.

She seems to read his thoughts. "My car is parked nearby. We could hide out there for a while if you like."

Jani's eyes fall on the bottle in her hand and she shakes her head when she follows them. "No, don't worry, I'm not suggesting we take a drive. I live around the corner, or, rather, my cousin does. I'm only here for the weekend."

He thinks it over. It's a good idea, but it seems that he's taking a little too long to respond when Helena speaks again. "Come on, I'll even promise I won't make you listen to our demo tape. Which is a promise that's easy to keep as we don't have one," she laughs.

That's a shame because Jani is always interested in listening to new bands. The main thing right now, however, is to get out of the sleet and wind that's gathering strength as they speak.

Reaching the car takes them only a couple of minutes and by the time she unlocks the doors, he finds himself hoping that the heating works.

It does. When they hurry inside, it's the first thing Helena switches on, followed by the cassette player. Jani acknowledges her choice in music with an appreciative smile when he recognises Def Leppard's Adrenalize album.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the music while the moisture from their clothes steams up the windows. When the tape ends, Jani isn't really surprised any longer that she leans over and kisses him.

If anyone would have told him this earlier, he wouldn't have believed them: Why would any girl, let alone such a nice and hot one, want to have anything to do with him? Now it feels right and natural to him, and of course it also feels _good._

Her kiss is slow, inviting, also teasing, but she's leaving the pace to him. Jani responds, shyly and tentatively at first, afraid that she'll withdraw when she notices his utter inexperience. She doesn't pull back, though, and after he's enjoyed the softness of her lips and breathed in the faint scent of her perfume for a while, he gets a little bolder and opens his mouth. So does she, and eventually, their tongue tips touch, sending a jolt of pleasure and excitement through him.

When there's no resistance, he lets his tongue slowly explore her lips, the corners of her mouth, then her teeth, and more of her tongue. His body makes it clear to him that he wants more. His jeans are uncomfortably tight by now and his nipples are tingling, but as much as he's enjoying the kiss, he's suddenly insecure again.

"It's okay," Helena says when they break the kiss for breath and their eyes meet. "I want it, too. But only if you're sure."

It's a valid point. On a first date – where Jani isn't even sure that this would count as a date – it isn't exactly customary to do more than hold hands, if even that much. He's sure he wants it, and Pirre said...

Jani swallows. He hasn't thought of Pirre all night. If she'd have come, he probably wouldn't be here now, but she's in the hospital with a concussion... Shouldn't he feel guilty for enjoying himself while she's sick? Then again, it was Pirre who encouraged him to meet girls, after all...

Helena doesn't pressure him, gives him time to think, and he appreciates it. His mind turns to a practical issue next: besides never having done this before, he doesn't have a condom either. So he's brought himself off every day for a couple of years now, but the necessity of being prepared for actual sex has never occurred to him.

"I'd love to." Jani's voice is a little hoarse and breathless as he finally answers her, hesitatingly. "But I don't carry, um, supplies." He winces, afraid that she'll take him for an idiot who assumes that protection is the woman's job.

"Neither do I," she replies. "But you know, I'm not enough of a gymnast for the real thing to happen in here anyways, and I can think of a few ways to have fun where we won't need condoms."

"That sounds good," Jani says, feeling stupid for his lack of eloquence, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Still, should we relocate to the back seat for a minimum of comfort?"

"Excellent idea."

She turns the ignition off, but right now it's warm in the car and in a few minutes, they'll generate enough heat between them to keep from getting cold. Or they won't notice anyway, Jani assumes.

Once they've changed positions, it's much easier to get close to each other, what without the gear lever between them. Jani caresses Helena's back when they resume kissing. Eternities fly by while he loses himself in the sensations. Oh yes, he still wants more, but the urgency of his desire is made up for by how incredibly good this feels.

When, eventually, she pulls back a little to take his hand and bring it to her chest, Jani thinks that his heart is about to explode. Sensing the soft swelling of her breast under his fingertips makes him feel light-headed. His gasps when he slowly builds up enough courage to graze a nipple are mirrored by hers. Growing bolder, he continues to gently rub the soon stiffening tip, and from her reaction, Jani knows that he isn't the only one yearning for more.

Helena slowly runs her hand down his chest. It comes to rest on his waist band while they kiss some more, then she smiles at him and tugs at his belt. Had he, an indeterminable time ago, thought that his heart might explode when he touched her breast? The downward rush of his blood he experiences now makes even that thought appear insignificant. Unable to speak, he bites his lip as he nods: yes, yes, please; Jani is sure she can read the hunger in his eyes.

When she undoes the buttons of his fly and rubs the bulge, Jani can't suppress his soft moans any longer, but he manages to put his hand on hers to stop her for a moment and choke out, "What about you?"

"I'm very good right now," she whispers, "and I promise to let you know if that changes."

From the corners of his eyes, he can see that she has a hand down her leggings. He's eager to make her feel good in return for what she's doing to him, but if he's honest with himself, from what he learned in school and got from Marko's occasional ramblings Jani still doesn't have a clue about pleasuring a woman. By now, she can't have missed that he's a virgin and he trusts that she'll tell her if there's anything she wants from him.

"Relax," she says with a smile as if she's, again, read his thoughts – well, it's probably fairly obvious what he's thinking. "Just lay back and enjoy."

So that's what he does, although he can barely believe that he should be so lucky. His eyes widen when she bends her head down, and he thinks that this must be a dream, that this...

Her lips meet with his crown and his thinking comes to a crashing halt. From here on, there's only sensation, ecstasy, the unimaginable feeling of warm, hot lips around his straining erection. Sparks of pleasure and delight fly up his spine when she sucks him down and uses her free hand to play with his balls. This... this must be a dream, and it's the best he's ever had, getting better still, until... until...

"Unnnhhh..." Jani can barely suppress crying out when the heat that has curled up in his lower body is suddenly unleashed. Overwhelmed by the pulsing fountains of bliss, he notices at the fringe of his consciousness that she's swallowing him down, then she's moaning, too, and then everything goes white for a moment before he finds himself panting next to her, her being as breathless as he is.

"That... that..." He needs to tell her how he feels, but what words could possibly begin to express this adequately?

"I know," is her hoarse reply.

After a while of lying there, frozen in time, she speaks again. "You should probably check in with your band."

She's probably right. "Maybe I should... But what about you?" What about us, is what he means to ask, but doesn't dare to. Or maybe he himself doesn't want to know, and then there's Pirre...

"I'm very happy," she smiles. "You made me very happy, and I wouldn't mind seeing you again. But no pressure."

Of all the potential answers, this is the perfect one. "I'd like to see you again, too," he replies, then bursts out as a thought suddenly hits him. "And I want to play music with you. But... I mean... I don't drive... not yet, anyway... and Pietarsaari isn't exactly round the corner..."

"No worries," she reassures him. "If we both want it, we'll find a way. I have a car, and we can always keep in touch via phone and email."

Or snail mail, he thinks, wondering if she'll laugh at him for apparently being a hopeless romantic, so he keeps the thought to himself. If she gives him her address, he promises himself that the very least he'll send her are the Tricky Beans demo tapes...

They don't talk anymore but get their clothes back in order and step out of the car, wincing at the rain that hasn't abated. She finds a pen and note pad in the glove compartment, and after a final kiss, Jani sets off back in the direction of the Youth Centre, with the address and phone number of one Helena Gry Pacius in his jacket pocket.

He isn't walking, he's floating. By the time he reaches the Takitsu, 'Make Love Like A Man' is resonating in his head. So maybe he hasn't done it all the way, but tonight he's gone through his baptism of fire, not only in the sense of becoming a _real_ musician, but also as a man.

* * *


End file.
